No Compromise
by RPGgirl514
Summary: Hawke tries to get Grand Cleric Elthina to step in when Meredith and Orsino fight. Too bad Anders doesn't know where Hawke went. Set during "The Last Straw."
1. Where Angels Fear to Tread

"_Fools rush in where angels fear to tread." (Alexander Pope)_

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"Fenris," Hawke said as he entered the room. She was seated on the edge of the bed, looking pensive. He paused in stripping off his gauntlets.

"Yes, Hawke?" He kept his voice even, but inside he felt a twinge of doubt and fear. Fenris didn't like where this was going.

She looked up at him, silhouetted against the fireplace, her blue eyes flickering with the reflection of the flames. "Do you ever wonder if you might die?"

"Of course. It is the nature of our profession," he said, continuing to remove his armor. "Does it bother you?"

"No," Hawke said. "Yes. I don't know. Lately, with all – this," she said, gesturing vaguely. "I'm afraid that each fight will be our last. That I'll die and you won't know – how I feel," she finished lamely. She smiled. "I guess I'm not very good at this."

Fenris finished stripping off the last of his armor and went to her. "Do not let it worry you, Marian," he said, and she shivered at the rare use of her given name. "I – love you." He stumbled over the words, unfamiliar as they were, stark and vulnerable in the otherwise silent room. Regardless, it felt right to say them.

"I love you, Fenris," Hawke said hesitantly, and then his lips were upon hers, tender yet insistent, and the night was spent lost in a haze of desires fulfilled.

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"Fenris?"

The elf looked up from the desk, pausing in his reading. Hawke had poked her head into the library. "I've just had a message from Knight-Captain Cullen. Apparently Meredith and Orsino are having another lover's spat." She sighed. "At least life as the Champion of Kirkwall is never dull. Come on; we've got to go."

Fenris reluctantly folded down the corner of the page to mark his place and began strapping on his armor. Hawke, who had already pulled on her leathers and twin daggers, was waiting in the foyer.

"If we hurry, we can get Aveline and Varric before we head to the Gallows," she said quickly as they emerged from her estate, blinking in the sunlight.

Fenris smirked. "No need," he said, gesturing at the stairs to the Viscount's Keep. Aveline, in full Guard-Captain platemail, was taking the steps two at a time, an orange and silver blur. She was accompanied by her husband, Donnic, and a small contingent of guards.

"Way ahead of you, Hawke," Aveline said, coming to a halt in front of her friend. "I've just heard about Meredith and Orsino. I have all hands on deck right now. If this blows up in our faces they have orders to get Kirkwall's citizens to safety."

"Good. To the Gallows, then."

They made a short detour to the Hanged Man to pick up Varric.

"I thought something like this might happen," he said grimly as he shouldered Bianca and followed them to the Gallows.

Whatever they had expected, it was not what met their eyes. The courtyard was empty save for Knight-Captain Cullen, who ran to meet them.

"Thank the Maker you're here, Champion," he said, his eyes wide. "Meredith and Orsino have started fighting again. The First Enchanter stormed off to bring the matter before the Grand Cleric, but Meredith went after him." Cullen shook his head. "You've got to talk some sense into them, Hawke, or there will be blood. Meredith has gone mad!"

"Oh, now you believe me?" Hawke said furiously. Without waiting for a response, she and her companions ran back the way they had come.

Hawke could hear the raised voices of the First Enchanter and the Knight-Commander as soon as she set foot in Hightown. It was not difficult to find them. They were standing about ten feet apart at the base of Viscount's Way, screaming at each other. So involved were they in their argument, they did not immediately notice the arrival of the Champion and her companions. After several minutes went by, however, Hawke was beginning to get irritated.

"This is ridiculous," she muttered, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "Aveline?"

"Yes, Hawke?"

"If this gets any more out of hand, send Varric to the Chantry. I'm going to go tell Mommy that her children are fighting again." With that, Hawke swept away.

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The Chantry was quiet and still, a welcome change from the commotion outside. Hawke's leather armor creaked as she made her way through the sanctuary. Several Chantry sisters passed by with quick platitudes. Though Hawke was not particularly devout – growing up in a family of apostates made Chantry visits nearly impossible – she still enjoyed the peaceful calm that always washed over her when she was here. It was a place where everything made sense and fit together exactly as the Maker intended. Hawke envied that kind of certainty sometimes.

"Your Grace," Hawke said, bowing her head and holding her right fist over her heart as a gesture of solidarity.

"Champion," Elthina said. "What a welcome surprise. Have you come to pray?"

Hawke smiled slightly. "I'm afraid not, Grand Cleric. Meredith and Orsino are having another row outside the Viscount's Keep at the moment, and I was hoping you could accompany me to reason with them."

Elthina nodded her assent. They started down the stairs. "I had hoped they could work out their differences," Elthina said, almost sadly. "Their positions impel them to become a team, but they fight the ties that bind them at every turn."

"Your Grace, if I may speak freely."

"Of course, Champion."

"In the past, neither of us has taken sides. You, in particular, were very adamant about letting the Knight-Commander and the First Enchanter sort out their differences on their own. But now the time has come for us to choose. Before we join them, I need to know where your loyalty lies." Hawke stopped at the door to the Chantry, subtly blocking the exit with her body.

Elthina smiled. "My loyalty lies with the Maker, child. In all things, I seek His wisdom and guidance."

Hawke opened her mouth to respond, but never got a chance. With a rumble, a red beam of magic burst through the floor of the Chantry. Sisters screamed, chaos erupting in the once-peaceful sanctuary. The statue of Andraste was bathed in red light, as though she had been drenched in blood. Hawke and Elthina stared in shock for an agonizing moment.

"We've got to run, your Grace!" Hawke shouted over the thunder in her ears. She grabbed the Grand Cleric's sleeve, yanked open the door, and made it only a few steps before the building exploded.

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Templars and mages had started to gather in the square, as had a few nobles and several of Hawke's other companions. Aveline, Varric and Fenris moved towards the rest.

"What's going on?" Merrill asked keenly.

"Exactly what it looks like," Aveline said grimly. "Looks like we're going to have to break this up." Aveline strode forward. "Ahem!"

Meredith and Orsino looked over, startled into silence. "What's going on here?"

"This is none of your concern, Guard-Captain," Meredith snapped.

"I am here on behalf of the Champion," Aveline said coolly.

"The people need to see what their Knight-Commander had become, what she has done!" Orsino said.

"I have done my duty to the citizens of Kirkwall, mage! I have protected them time and again. I have protected you and your mages from yourselves and your curse!"

"What is she talking about?" Aveline said to Orsino.

"This is but the latest of accusations against us," Orsino said. "She sees blood magic in everything. My people cannot even sneeze without being accused of corruption!" He shook his head, his lips drawn back in a sneer. "This is getting us nowhere. Grand Cleric Elthina will put an end to this madness!" He turned, but Knight-Commander Meredith followed, yanking him back by the shoulder of his robes.

"You will not bring her Grace into this!"

"The Grand Cleric cannot help you!" A new voice called out. Aveline, Meredith, and Orsino turned to face the speaker in surprise. It was Anders.

"Explain yourself, mage!" Meredith spat, her blue eyes narrowing.

"I will not stand idly by while you treat innocent mages like criminals, while those who would lead us bow to their templar jailers!"

"How dare you –!" Orsino said hotly, but Anders interrupted.

"The Circle has failed us. The time has come to act!" Anders said. His eyes flashed blue, the spirit within exulting in the culmination of their plan.

Fenris narrowed his eyes. Something was very wrong here.

"There can be no half-measures. There can be no turning back."

"Anders, what have you done?" Aveline demanded.

"There can be no turning back," Anders repeated, more softly.

The ground began to rumble under their feet. Fenris drew his sword, and by the whisper of steel echoing throughout the square, he was not the only one. A great burst of red light lit up the sky to their right, the spire of the Chantry illuminated in the waning sunlight. As those assembled watched in trepidation, the two towers of the Chantry exploded. Broken stone began to whirl around the scarlet beam, the vortex of rubble gaining momentum until the building exploded with a tremendous crash, blanketing the city in dust and debris. The horrified silence that fell was heavy upon them all.

Fenris felt as if the bottom had dropped out of his stomach. Hawke had gone to warn Grand Cleric Elthina – Hawke had been _inside_ the Chantry – _Hawke_ – Fenris' sword fell from his grasp and clattered onto the cobblestones.

"What have you done?" whispered Orsino into the utterly still twilight.

"I have removed the chance of compromise because there is no compromise," Anders said. "There is no one to stand in the way."

In a flash of lyrium blue, Fenris had closed the gap and was upon Anders. The mage lay prone on the ground. Fenris' fingers closed on his chest, over his heart.

"You have murdered, in cold blood, the one person who could make this right," Fenris snarled. "She believed in you, like she believed in all of us, and now, because of you, she is gone."

"Wh-What are you talking about?" Anders said, confused.

"Hawke was in the Chantry," Fenris said, and as he said it his heart squeezed uncomfortably as though he had reached through his own chest and took hold of it.

The onlookers assembled gasped. Could it be – their Champion was dead?

"That's right," Fenris said, his green eyes glinting dangerously.

"No," whispered Anders. This had not been part of the plan. Nameless Chantry sisters, the Grand Cleric – they were to blame for the stranglehold that had been placed on mages for centuries. Not Hawke. She had even helped him, unknowingly helped gather the ingredients for the explosion, taking Anders' word without a thought to the contrary. She had championed the cause of mages with her actions, despite her diplomatic nature that never openly took sides. Anders closed his eyes.

"The Grand Cleric and the Champion of Kirkwall, slain by magic . . ." said Meredith slowly, gazing into the sky where the Chantry had stood moments before. Her crystal blue eyes narrowed, and she whirled on Orsino. "As Knight-Commander of Kirkwall, I hereby invoke the Right of Annulment! Every mage in the Circle is to be executed immediately!"

"You can't!" Orsino protested. "The Circle didn't have anything to do with this!"

Templars advanced upon the mages, circling like jackals. "You will not harm them!" Orsino cried, throwing up a shield of magic between them. Over his shoulder, he said, "Run! Get to the Gallows!" The mages did as they were told, Orsino bringing up the rear, never turning his back upon the templars.

"As the Champion's companions, I expect you to support me in this," Meredith said, addressing the group that had gathered around Anders and Fenris. "I will be in the Gallows, rousing my men. You will join me there once you deal with this . . . murderer in your midst." She glowered at Anders, then swept away.

"The time had come to act," Anders said. "I know that I deserve to die because of it. My name will be the rallying cry of the mages' revolution. I did what I thought was necessary."

"And I must do what is necessary." Fenris plunged his hand into Anders' chest and closed his fingers over the mage's frantically beating heart, ripping it through his chest and tossing it away. Anders let out a small 'oh', then the light in his brown eyes, still wide with surprise, went dull. Fenris stood up, ignoring the expressions of his companions and swept away.

"We're done here."


	2. Not Giving Up

Despite the Knight-Commander's threatening ultimatum, Fenris had no intention of meeting her in the Gallows. Not right now, at least. He had left Hawke's other companions behind, gathered around the murderer's body. He couldn't bear to see their faces, their accusing stares, their pain. Somehow seeing their grief would make his own all the more real. Fenris felt bereft, a ship lost at sea with no lighthouse in sight. Since killing Danarius, he had hesitantly begun to build his own life to parallel Hawke's. He had not the slightest idea how he could go on without her.

As Fenris' light feet carried him inexorably towards the Chantry, he heard running footsteps behind him. They were calling his name, wanting him to come back and put things right. Just like Hawke had always done.

"Fenris!" They had caught up to him. Varric was there, and Aveline. Merrill was close behind. It struck him how small their group had become since Hawke had brought them all together. First Bethany, then Isabela, now Anders. Not that the last was much of a loss, Fenris thought, his lip curling.

"Fenris, where are you going?" Aveline asked, reaching for his shoulder. He dodged away with an indistinct snarl.

He couldn't explain it; they wouldn't understand. Fenris had to see it with his own eyes; he had to see her body, broken and small, before he could believe that she, the Champion of Kirkwall, the woman who had made him less of a wolf and more of a man, could possibly be dead.

"She's gone," Varric said quietly, jogging to keep up with the elf. "No one could have survived that. Not even Hawke."

They rounded the corner into the Chantry courtyard. Clouds of dust and smoke obscured most of the square. Mounds of debris were scattered everywhere. Bodies and body parts were strewn over the cobblestones in a macabre tableau. The acrid smell of burning flesh was pungent, and behind him, Fenris heard Merrill gagging. The gaping hole where the Chantry had stood was aflame, a raging inferno content to burn itself out.

"Hawke!" Fenris shouted into the fog. Distant screams echoed from Lowtown. He hadn't really been expecting any more of an answer. "Marian!" He began to move, combing through the bodies and rubble, looking for any sign of her.

"Fenris, she can't possibly –"

"Shut up and help me!" he snapped, using his sword to turn over a dead Chantry sister. Most of her robe had been burned off, her skin black and peeling. Fenris shuddered to think this could be Hawke's fate. He pushed the thought away.

There was a violent coughing fit somewhere to his left. Probably Merrill, he thought, before Aveline's sharp voice rang out.

"Fenris! Here!"

Fenris followed the noise. Figures loomed out of the fog. Aveline was bent over two figures, one of which lay motionless on the ground. The other was sitting up, coughing. She was bleeding, bruised and extremely dirty, her short black hair turned grey by the ubiquitous dust, but she was alive. Relief flooded through Fenris at the sight of her.

"Take – more than – that – to – to –" Hawke coughed, "kill little – old me, right?" she cracked, trying to grin and dissolving into another fit.

"Here, drink this," Aveline said, pulling out a healing potion. Hawke drank it in two gulps, pausing in the middle to cough again.

"This – damn – dust," she gasped. "What about – Elthina?"

"She's alive, but only just," Merrill piped up. She had her fingers on the prone figure's pulse. With a start, Fenris realized the unconscious woman was indeed, Grand Cleric Elthina.

"We're far too exposed here," Aveline said urgently. "We need to get them somewhere safe."

"My estate is closest," Fenris said. "We can take them there." He knelt to pick up Hawke. She slipped her arms around his neck and leaned her head on his chest. She was unconscious in moments, though whether she had fallen asleep or passed out, he could not say.

Aveline handed her sword and shield to Varric, then scooped up the Grand Cleric and slung the unconscious woman over her shoulders.

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Fenris' house was dark and empty. Merrill tripped over a broken chair in the foyer, crashing into Varric and sending Aveline's weapons to the floor.

"Sorry," she said meekly, righting herself as Varric retrieved the sword and shield.

They laid the two injured women on the floor in the great hall, and Aveline set to work with healing poultices while Merrill attempted to force small doses of potion down the Grand Cleric's throat. Varric stood guard at the door, fidgeting with Bianca's gears and mechanisms, running to fetch things when necessary. Fenris paced, prowling around the room like a wounded wolf. When their charges were stable, Aveline took Fenris aside.

"How bad?" Fenris asked.

"Considering she was blown halfway across the courtyard, very well," Aveline said. "Hawke's armor protected her from the worst of it. She's got plenty of lacerations, bruises, a few broken ribs, and I'm fairly certain her lung is punctured. She may have internal bleeding that we don't know about, and if that's the case, time is of the essence. I've given her a healing potion and stopped her bleeding, but I'm no healer. If only Anders –"

"Do not speak to me of that abomination!" Fenris snarled. Merrill and Varric looked over sharply.

"Yes, yes, Fenris, you were right! Is that what you want to hear? My patience with you has nearly reached its end. You are not the only one who has suffered today." Aveline sighed and ran a hand through her fiery hair, frustrated. Her outburst was not helping, though it did make her feel better. "All I'm saying is Hawke needs a healer, Fenris, and a damn good one. I don't know who to go to now." _Now that you killed Anders. _Aveline had left it unspoken, but the accusation was implied.

It seemed that in his haste for revenge on Hawke's murderer, he had unwittingly sealed her fate. Swallowing hard, he asked, "What of the Grand Cleric?"

"She's still unconscious, but her wounds seem minor. I believe that Hawke most likely used her own body to shield the Grand Cleric from harm, taking the brunt of the explosion herself."

_Of course she did, _Fenris thought. "So what can we do?"

"Varric," started Aveline, "didn't you once say you knew everything and everyone worth knowing in this city? Do you know of a healer that could help us?"

"That was years ago, Aveline!" Varric protested. "I never needed to know of any healer other than Blondie. He was the best, and by far the cheapest. Besides, all the mages in the Kirkwall right now are either in the Gallows, or running for their lives."

"Not all of them," came a strong, clear, female voice. Varric wheeled around and shoved Bianca, locked and loaded, right into Bethany Hawke's face.

"You can put that down, Varric," she said, "I'm here to help."

Varric lowered his crossbow. "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes, Sunshine," the dwarf said, grinning.

"Bethany?" Hawke said groggily, attempting to sit up, and the Grey Warden hurried to her sister's side.

"I've been looking for you everywhere," Bethany said. "I thought you were dead. The city is in chaos. I've been hearing the wildest rumors since I got here – something about the Chantry being blown up with the Champion and Grand Cleric still inside – oh, Maker!" She had spotted the Grand Cleric lying on the floor. "Is it true?"

Hawke nodded, hissing in pain.

"Here, let me heal you. And you lot, clear out! I need some room," Bethany barked. Aveline, Varric, Fenris, and Merrill obediently took a few steps back. Bethany's hands glowed blue as she gently touched her sister's side, seeking out and healing the injuries within. Hawke gritted her teeth, crying out only once. Finally, Bethany sat back on her heels.

"Feel better?"

Hawke nodded. "Much. Can you do anything for Elthina?"

"I'll do what I can." The younger Hawke moved to the Grand Cleric's side.

"Now that I'm ready to die another day, what in the name of Andraste's left buttcheek happened?" Hawke asked, slowly getting to her feet and stretching.

Her four companions looked at each other uneasily. They had all been so focused on helping Hawke, they had forgotten that she had not been present to see Anders' last desperate act and had, instead, been caught up in it.

"Who wants to take this one?" Varric said.

"Don't look at me," Fenris snapped. "You're the story-teller."

Varric grimaced. It was going to be hard to make this one sound good. Before he even opened his mouth, however, Hawke interrupted him.

"The truth, Varric. Not the version you're going to tell the public."

"Alright," he said, sighing in resignation, "but you're not going to like it."

Varric spoke for a good twenty minutes, careful to tell everything exactly as it had happened and not to leave anything out. Hawke gasped, rolled her eyes, or swore appropriately as his tale progressed.

"So this is what Anders was planning all along?" Hawke said in a hushed voice. "How could we have missed this? Didn't anyone notice how desperate he was becoming?"

Her companions shook their heads. 

"Search me," Varric said. "I always thought Blondie was a bit cracked, but mostly harmless."

"His actions will make it next to impossible to reason with Meredith and Orsino, even with the Grand Cleric's assistance," Hawke said, rubbing her temples to clear her head.

"I hate to break it to you, Hawke," Aveline said grimly, "but I think the time for reason is over."

"I thought so," Hawke said ruefully. "What of Anders? Has he fled the city? Or did Meredith strike him down where he stood?"

"Uh, not exactly," Varric said with a sidelong glance at Fenris. The elf grimaced and turned away. "Broody used his magic fisting thing on him."

"Oh, Maker," Hawke breathed, leaning against the wall and closing her eyes. "What Anders did was horrific, but I never wished him dead. I wanted to believe in his cause, but . . . not like this." She took a deep breath and stood once more. "So it goes. We should get to the Gallows."

Bethany had finished healing the Grand Cleric to the best of her ability. She slumped against the wall, her eyes closed, her staff lying on the floor beside her.

"Sister?" Hawke asked tentatively.

"Hmm?"

"Are you okay?"

Bethany's brown eyes opened, weariness evident in the slight lines around her eyes. "I've drained my magic completely, but I'll be alright. The Grand Cleric is healing on her own now, but she'll need to rest. You should too, Marian. I didn't heal you just so you could go charging off into battle."

"Well, you know me," Hawke quipped. "And whatever happened to Grey Wardens not interfering?"

"I'm not a Grey Warden right now; I'm your sister," Bethany said. "Go, do what you must for Kirkwall. I'll stay here with Her Grace. We'll be fine."

"I hate to be a drag, but the situation in the Gallows is going to need our attention sooner rather than later," Varric said pointedly. "What's the plan?"

"We go tell Meredith what's what," Hawke growled. "Where are my daggers?"

Silence. "Um . . ." Merrill started. "Well, they might still be near where we found you. They might have been thrown clear of the blast."

"Shit," Hawke swore, evaluating her options. If they tried to look for the two she had been wearing in the Chantry, they would be wasting time, and there was no guarantee they could even find them. "Nevermind. We'll swing by my estate on the way to the Gallows. I have some spares. They're not as nice, but they'll do. Aveline, Fenris, Varric, and Merrill – with me. We've got a Knight-Commander to put in her place."


	3. The Last Straw

**A/N: This is the third and final installment in the 'No Compromise' serial. It's quite a bit longer than the first two! For those who read the second chapter right after it came out, it has since been edited to include a short conversation near the end where Hawke reacts to the news of Anders' death. Funny how this was originally supposed to be a one-shot. :) Thank you for reading! I hope you've enjoyed it.**

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><p>Fenris was sulking.<p>

That in itself was not a surprise. In the past, however, Hawke usually had some inkling of what was wrong. Under normal circumstances, she might let her mind wander, wracking her brain to determine what slight, real or imagined, had caused his bad temper. Not tonight.

Kirkwall was crumbling. They hurried through the Lowtown streets, occasionally having to double back because the doors that had originally quelled slave rebellion in the district had been closed to protect its citizenry. The dust from the ruined Chantry hung thick in the air, even here, and fires burned unchecked in the streets and buildings. It was far too familiar for comfort. Hawke was struck by a memory – nearly four years ago, the city had been plunged into chaos when the Qunari's patience ran out, and they attacked. Somehow she had found herself in the thick of it then, too.

Skirmishes between mages and templars raged in the streets; for the most part, Hawke and her companions tried to stay out of them. The ferry was bobbing in the marina, almost as though it was waiting for them. The ferryman shoved off without a word as soon as they were aboard.

The Gallows loomed before them. During her first two years in Kirkwall, she and Bethany had looked over their shoulders at every turn, expecting to see templars swooping down upon them. Then the Deep Roads had happened, and Bethany went off to become a Grey Warden. Hawke had often wondered what might have happened had she heeded their mother's advice and left Bethany behind, or had she not been touched by the darkspawn taint. Would her sister be a Circle mage now? And would that have broken Leandra's heart nearly as much as becoming a Grey Warden had? Hawke pushed the thoughts from her mind. What was done was done.

In what seemed like no time at all, they had reached the stairs that led to the Gallows courtyard. As Hawke stepped off the boat, she turned to her companions. "Before we go in there, let's get one thing straight." She took a deep breath. "I would have liked to settle this without bloodshed, but that's not an option now. Meredith won't let this go down without a fight. If it comes to choosing sides, I'll protect the mages. I hope that's not a problem."

"I'm in," Varric said immediately. "This promises to be your biggest show yet, Hawke. Wouldn't miss that for the world."

"Of course I'll help you," Merrill said. "It wasn't their fault. We must protect them."

"Hawke, I'm not sure I can do this," Aveline said, her green eyes troubled. "I'm the Guard-Captain. I have to set an example."

"Don't you see, Aveline? You'll be protecting the innocent from a madwoman who would slaughter them all for the actions of one man. Regardless of how you feel about mages, they shouldn't have to take the fall for Anders." Hawke glanced at Fenris, who was determinedly not looking at her. "He's already paid the price for his actions."

"Please, Aveline," said Hawke. "You've been by my side longer than anyone in Kirkwall. Don't abandon me now, friend."

"Then . . . my place is with you," Aveline said.

"Fenris?" All eyes turned expectantly on the elf.

"Why don't we give you two a minute," Aveline said gently, steering everyone else a short distance away.

"If you've something to say, now would be a good time," Hawke said, folding her arms over her chest.

Fenris met her eyes. His own were blazing, a great rage boiling up behind the normally shadowed green irises. But there was something else – Hawke knew him better than anyone, and behind his anger there was a kind of . . . hurt. Hawke had long ago realized that Fenris, like his namesake, reacted to pain by lashing out.

"Out with it," she said firmly.

He swore in Arcanum. "You would have spared him," he said, each syllable ridden with scorn.

"Here we go," Hawke said, casting her eyes skyward briefly. "Yes, Fenris, I would have spared Anders. But I am not naïve." She stopped and frowned. "Why did _you_ kill him? You, and not Meredith?"

"I believed you dead by his hand," Fenris growled. "I could not let him live."

"Oh, Fenris," Hawke said in exasperation, and she reached out to cup his face in her hands. He flinched, but his wrath was spent, the last of his ire ebbing from the depths of his eyes. Hawke's mercy, so infuriating when directed elsewhere, was always a balm to his own troubled spirit. "Don't believe for a moment that I blame you for it. What you did was just."

Fenris said nothing.

"All I need to know now is whether or not you will fight with me to protect the mages," Hawke said. She took a deep breath. Her next words were the hardest thing she had to say. "If you can't, I understand. But then I need you to go, and I can never follow." She felt tears come to her eyes, and fought them down quickly. She needed all her faculties for what was certain to be the most difficult fight of her life. It seemed like years ago that the two of them had been entwined in her bed, whispering hesitant I love yous in the dark.

Fenris smiled, that small, half-smile that was so dear to Hawke's heart. "You lead me to strange places, Hawke," he said, and immediately Hawke knew all was well again between them. He looked over at Merrill, who blushed and looked away; Aveline, who stared stonily back at him; Varric, who winked with a 'go get her' sort of look.

"I may not get the chance to say this again," he began, and cursed how awkward the words felt on his tongue. "Meeting you was the most important thing that ever happened to me, Hawke. Promise me you won't die."

"I've already died once today," Hawke quipped. "Twice in one day would just be overkill, don't you think?"

Fenris made a noise in his throat. "I can't bear the thought of living without you."

"I don't make that promise unless you do," Hawke said seriously.

"Nothing is going to keep me from you," Fenris said, and then she was in his arms, one gauntleted hand cool on her neck and his lips upon hers. It was a wild, consuming kiss, one that Hawke would very much have liked to get caught up in and swept away, but a loud wolf whistle and an impatient 'ahem' interrupted. Fenris pulled away from her slowly, his eyes still smoldering, the promise of a lifetime of such kisses after this battle left burning on her lips.

"Let's get this show on the road!" Varric called. Merrill was watching them with far too much interest, and Aveline was trying (and failing) to look disapproving.

"I'm assuming you've worked out your differences, then?" Aveline said as they entered the Gallows. Hawke just grinned.

* * *

><p>Meredith and Orsino were in the center of the courtyard, circling each other like wild animals, flanked by a large group of templars and Circle mages, respectively. Bodies of both sides littered the ground. Orsino shot a bolt of arcane energy at the Knight-Commander, but it seemed to merely glance off her armor, leaving a dark smear and vanishing with a crackle and the smell of burnt metal. Meredith had not yet drawn her weapon, apparently thinking Orsino and his magic not nearly threatening enough to warrant it. Her templars crouched, swords at the ready, ready to charge the mages at a single word.<p>

"I don't suppose there's any popcorn left, is there?" Hawke said lightly. Behind her, Varric snorted.

Meredith turned at the sound of her voice. To Hawke's delight, the Knight-Commander paled. "Champion! How did you – that is, you were – but – you're alive?"

"Indeed," Hawke said, attempting an exaggerated bow. Her innards screamed in protest; Bethany's healing had put her back together, but she was still not completely whole. Orsino and Meredith seemed to have completely forgotten about each other with Hawke's arrival.

"And what of – her Grace?" Meredith asked, her blue eyes wide. Hawke was sure she read uncertainty and – was that fear, or disappointment? – within their depths. Hawke seized upon it.

"Alive," Hawke said firmly. The time for jokes and diplomacy had passed. "She is safe and resting, for the moment. But that's not what you wanted, is it, Knight-Commander? You needed an excuse to invoke the Right of Annulment, and Anders practically gift-wrapped it and put a nice bow on top."

"How dare you!" Meredith said. "I will do whatever it takes to protect this city, and some Fereldan bitch will not stop me!"

"Oh, that's nice," Hawke said conversationally, her sapphire eyes narrowing. "I went from 'Champion of Kirkwall' to 'Fereldan bitch' in less than a minute."

Her companions and Orsino gasped collectively as Meredith slapped her. Hawke didn't see it coming; pain seared through her jaw and the inside of her cheek split open. Hawke spat a mouthful of blood on the ground, reaching a hand up to touch her burning face. She could sense Fenris nearly shaking with suppressed rage behind her, his tattoos a faint glow under his armor.

"I should gut you for your insolence," Meredith snarled, reaching for the hilt of her sword, but before she could draw, Knight-Captain Cullen stepped between them.

"Stand down, Knight-Commander," Cullen said firmly. "We should arrest them."

"You will do as I command, Cullen," she said, her tone brooking no argument.

"No," he said. "I defended you when Thrask started asking questions, but I cannot allow you to murder the Champion. This is going too far."

"You will obey! I will tolerate no insubordination! There can be no compromise with fools! If you protect these dogs, you shall die like one!" Meredith shrieked. She drew her immense sword, a long, wickedly pointed blade that glowed red in the twilight. Cullen stumbled backwards, throwing up his hands, the tip just inches from his throat.

"Andraste's dimpled buttcheeks!" Varric whispered into the tense silence.

"You recognize it, do you not?" Meredith said, a note of glee in her voice. "Pure lyrium, taken from the Deep Roads. The dwarf charged a great deal for it."

"I'll bet he did," Varric muttered. Aveline cursed under her breath. The Circle mages present had begun to whisper among themselves, filling the Gallows with a sound like reeds blowing in the wind.

"It seems a lot more sword-like than I remember," Hawke said. Meredith's lip curled.

"All of you! I want her dead!" Meredith shouted to her templars, swinging her sword to point at Hawke. "Now!"

"Enough!" Cullen said. "This is not what the Order stands for. Knight-Commander Meredith, step down. I relieve you of your command."

"My own Knight-Captain has fallen prey to the influence of blood magic," Meredith said, shaking her head. "For this, Cullen, you must pay the price."

Meredith strode up to the Knight-Captain, held him by one armored shoulder, and ran him through. The lyrium blade buzzed as it penetrated Cullen's platemail, the metal melting at its touch like butter. Cullen looked up at her, shocked. "Knight-Commander," he mumbled, blood bubbling at the corner of his mouth.

Meredith pushed him away roughly, pulling her blade free. Cullen stumbled backwards, falling to his knees before pitching forward, lying on his belly on the cold stone, head turned to one side. The light had gone out of his hazel eyes.

In the eerie silence that follow Cullen's death, the templars behind Meredith began backing away slowly. Their faces were hidden by their shuttered helms, but Hawke knew that whether they recognized it or not, they had already switched sides.

"This is madness! She has turned on her own!" Orsino shouted desperately. "We must strike!" He twirled his staff before him and began casting. The Circle mages followed his lead. Chaos erupted in the Gallows as mages and templars alike turned on Meredith.

Hawke rallied her companions, drawing her daggers. "Let's do this!" She threw herself into the fray, darting around Meredith, stabbing anywhere she could reach without retribution. Time after time her blade met armor. It seemed the Knight-Commander was as untouchable as her arrogance would indicate. Hawke fell back, frustrated. Her stamina was handicapped by her recent injuries, and already she was breathing heavily.

As she watched, Meredith swung her sword in a wide arc. The corrupted lyrium worked its magic, throwing back those who surrounded her. All but Aveline. Dazed, Hawke propped herself up on her elbows. The Knight-Commander raised her sword before her and thrust it into the stones beneath her feet. A wave of energy washed over them, rippling outwards through the Gallows, and the humming of the sword grew louder, making the hair on Hawke's nape stand up. With an almighty roar, Aveline wound up and bashed her enormous shield into Meredith's torso. Meredith stumbled backwards, but her sword had done its work. As those assembled watched in stunned horror, the gigantic slave statues crouched by the stairs came to life, jumping down with a crash that swept many off their feet.

"Maker help us!" a templar cried, and rushed to engage one of the statues. With a casual swipe of its slender arm, he was cast across the courtyard into a stone pillar, where he crumpled at its base and lay there, dazed. The other knights banded together and charged the statue, their steel swords chipping away at its bronze exterior.

Meredith had managed to wrench her blade from the cobblestones and was now commanding her troops of statues from the dais between the stairs leading to the Circle tower. She was wreathed in the same red light that had destroyed the Chantry, her blonde hair and blue eyes shining with a great and terrible beauty. Templars and mages fought side by side to bring down her minions. Hawke caught a glimpse of a bright blue spectre weaving through the melee, his Blade of Mercy felling a lesser statue in a flash of silver.

"Fall back!" Hawke heard Orsino shout over the chaos. Somehow the First Enchanter found his way to her side in the midst of the battle raging around them.

"Champion!" he gasped, his hand grasping her leather-bound forearm. The elf seemed fatigued and had a deep gash on his cheek, but seemed otherwise none the worse for wear.

"I hope you have a plan," Hawke said, a little more sharply than she meant to.

Orsino's voice gained an edge to it as he nodded and said, "Maker help us all, I do." He smiled at her, a worn, hopeless smile that chilled Hawke to the bone. "Sometimes I wonder they don't simply drown us as infants. It would almost be more merciful."

"You can't give up!" Hawke protested, grabbing Orsino by the shoulder of his robes. The elf shook his head sadly and moved away, toward Meredith, and Hawke felt the folds of his robes slip through her fingers. The sharp profile of his face was thrown into relief by the scarlet light of Meredith's blade.

"I'm not giving up," Orsino said quietly, his jaw set in a resolute line. "I'm giving in." He drew a dagger from the waist of his robes and slashed open his palm.

"No!" Hawke screamed, but she might as well have whispered for all who heard her. There was a flash of light, and then blood, so much blood Hawke nearly vomited from the rich, metallic smell that overwhelmed her senses. Orsino was drenched in it. Those who had fallen in battle began to move, their unknowing bodies sliding across the stone and forming a grisly curtain of blood and corpses, bound in a vortex around Orsino by his desperate, wicked magic. And then he was gone, and in his place stood an abomination, more wretched and grotesque than any Hawke had ever seen. With a screech, the creature advanced on Meredith, its fleshy arms and deformed body moving without grace or precision. It attacked not with strategy, but with malice, needing to feel her pain to fuel its blood-rage.

Hawke blinked and returned to the world, her mind spinning. She found the mages and templars had made short work of the animated statues – strangely enough, they worked well together when they weren't fighting amongst themselves. Hawke's companions were scattered over the battlefield but as she sought out each with her eyes, she was relieved to find they all yet lived.

A scream pierced the night, and the exhausted troops turned as one to place it. Meredith had fallen to the assault of the Harvester, her sword lying feet away from her hand, useless to her now. With her feet, she pushed herself away feebly, her injured arm curled over her chest.

Hawke broke into a jog, trying to reach the dais, to see whether Meredith had come back to herself, just as Bartrand did, moments before Varric –

"Stop!" she shouted desperately at the abomination, but with one clawed hand, the Harvester reached down and took off Meredith's head.

"Mages! Fireballs ready on three!" barked one mage. Flames sprang to life in the hands of every able mage present. "One . . . two . . . three!"

More fireballs than Hawke had ever seen flew across the Gallows and exploded. As it burned, the Harvester let out a hair-raising shriek of agony, and the acrid smell of burning flesh filled the night. Several templars and mages discreetly ran out of sight and vomited in the shadows. The flames consumed Orsino and Meredith in a shared pyre on the dais.

After a few minutes of stiff silence, the templars sheathed their swords and looked around at Hawke. The mages looked to her as well. Aveline, Fenris, and Varric moved to Hawke's side, the last supporting an ashen-faced Merrill. Hawke retrieved the lyrium blade from where it had fallen from Meredith's fingers. It felt warm and greasy to the touch. Hawke carefully wrapped it in a moth-eaten scarf she had kept and held it awkwardly. Hawke wasn't sure what to do with the sword; she only knew that it was her duty to prevent it from falling into the wrong hands again.

"Let's go, Hawke," Varric said quietly. "The show's over."

Their faces inscrutable, the templars and mages moved to allow them to leave the Gallows. Fenris slipped an arm around Hawke's waist and she sagged against him. Kirkwall was in shambles. Meredith and Orsino lay dead, Cullen had been murdered, and the Grand Cleric gravely injured.

In the days that followed, Hawke and Fenris packed up their valued belongings and left the City of Chains, telling no one their destination but promising to write. Bethany vanished within a day, bidding her sister farewell and good luck. Merrill returned to her home in the alienage and Varric could still be found in the Hanged Man, telling grand tales of the Champion's final battle to the gossip-hungry citizens of Kirkwall. The Grand Cleric regained consciousness in the Viscount's Keep, and eventually traveled to Starkhaven to recruit aid in rebuilding Kirkwall's Chantry. Aveline, the rock that had kept the Champion anchored during her years in the Free Marches, returned to her post as Guard-Captain and worked together with Seneschal Bran to put Kirkwall back together.

With his dreams of revolution and justice, Anders had done more damage than he could ever know. Hawke reflected on the events that transpired that night often in the months after her flight from Kirkwall. No matter what had happened, she and Fenris were alive and well and _together_, and that was enough.


End file.
